The Elegy of Stinky Peterson
by Wario the TableMan
Summary: When the vampiric sensations settle in, they never truly leave


Brandishing his mighty steel blade, Gerald rushed forth and locked seething metal with his opponent. He had never felt such a passionate blending of love and hatred. His mind raced tremulously with the apparent convictions laid upon his counterpart. The dishonourable turmoil distressed the catacombs of his tall-haired wellbeing. All was lost in a single breath of sorrow.

"Yahoo."

The torturous syllables raged throughout his mental corridors, bringing harm to his respectful tendencies. Gerald had been driven mad.

At the other end of the blade, Stinky Peterson was grinning wildly from ear to pointed ear. The horrid disgrace transfigured the unholy masses of a time unbeknownst to the people of the radiant forthcomings. With the sly gaze, the ages were rocked with the night terrors of ill-begotten gains.

"I thought I told a thousand times…" seethed Gerald as he drew back and retaliated the blockade with a flurry of stabs. "We are a unit of salvation. Open your eyes, cur."

Stinky continued to shield himself effortlessly, sneering all the way through like a crazed lunatic. His lips curled past his shining yellow gloss. He feinted to the left and then charged forward with deafening velocity and caught his red-cloaked foe of guard.

Gerald looked down in shock as the crude double-edged staff pierced his armour. The 33 symbol was laid waste as the single digit protecting the heart was hacked beyond repair as Stinky slowly carved his path to claim his kill.

Gerald shot Stinky a determined look. "The benevolent Keeper of Legends shall not fall to such an heralded misnomer," he said saintly as he gripped the sharp edge with his bare hand and forced the protrusion out of its makeshift socket.

Stinky was amazed by the warrior's tenacity, but refused to realign his emotions. All Stinky cared about as of now were two things: Yahoo and his vampiric bloodlust.

Gerald stepped back several meters and gripped his tunic. He shed his armour, revealing his chiseled structure of absolute morale. His formidable pectorals bathed in the harsh rays as his biceps accentuated his thirst for justice. He posed with his arm withdrawn, gripping the hilt of his galaxy defender with the utmost sovereignty.

Stinky scoffed at the vermin and swung his sword playfully as his keenness for war overtook his existential motifs. Gerald knew that Stinky had been warped beyond comprehension, but even the inconceivable was a farfetched notion for what he had been presented with.

"Gerald… we tried…" murmured the faint traces of Sid. He and Harold laid upon the muddled grounds, defeated by the harsh recourse of a tainted soul.

Gerald glanced down at his comrades and shed a manly tear in honour of their futile, yet noble, sacrifice. He turned to face Stinky once more. "You will pay for your vilmisconduct, Peterson…" he growled with the upturned phlegm of vengeance coating his writhing judgment-induced interjections.

Stinky twirled the weapon once more and then charged towards Gerald. They locked blades again, creating a lightning torrent upon impact, soaking the battlegrounds with the taste of an intermingling of sweat and coagulated blood. Stinky licked his lavish grin of horrors and proceeded to hack away once more at the chiseled structure of fortitude, wisdom, and honour.

Arnold watched the absurd encounter unfold from a distance, pistol in hand with only two shots left. The dour truth was out and chilled the football-headed shortman to his very core. He and Gerald were each other's right-hand-men, but the sudden revelations of Stinky's controversial metamorphosis had shattered the vanguards relations and forced the hand of separation. The celebrated acquaintances, trained under the watchful, caring eye of PS-118's very own Mr. Simmons, rest his weary soul as the nights rain down scads of thunderous misgivings, were no longer a collection, but a scattered troupe of disorganised hopes and dreams.

Arnold cocked the blaster and shakily pointed the barrel towards his two former allies. He was unsure as to what his next heinous actions were or even what motives truly lurked behind them. With a wince and many tears sliding down his ovoid countenance, Arnold pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

Stinky looked down and saw the shining condensed lead soaring from betwixt his lapels. A wave of genuine horror filled his face like the raging waves of a lathered ocean, the salt creeping into a corner and eroding the coastline to no end. Stinky Peterson gripped his chest and dropped to his knees. For a brief moment, his wailings called upon the harbingers of death. Yet, in his last few moments of undead tyranny, a broad smile splayed across his elven complexion.

"Yahoo Soda… Just drink it…" Stinky exhaled as his face plummeted into the mortal abyss from which all life originated, the earthen dust.

The skies rained down fury as Gerald struggled to retain his equanimity. He saw Arnold in the distance, wielding the doombringer. More manly tears fell from his ducts and reaffirmed his humanity. He beat the mud and let out a hearty roar of warrior eccentricity.

The accursed vampire Stinky Peterson had been felled.

It was a glorious defeat that had nonetheless brought the whole class back together again, but to what avail. Mr. Simmons was dead, the school was in shambles, and Stinky had caused irreparable mental damage to the entire neighborhood.

"Why are we still here?" Gerald raged, bitterly weeping into his muscled sleeve, his composure shattered by the duress of malevolence. "Just to suffer?"

Harold and Sid looked at one another, embraced, and began to sob as well.

Arnold dropped his pistol, swearing to never again use such rash injustice to accomplish daunting tasks, even in wake of the termination of the greater good.

That is because his friendship with Gerald was going to be the greatest good he was ever going to get.

_**FIN**_


End file.
